


No One Mourns the Wicked

by yorkisms



Series: Lazer Team Fantasy/Dungeons and Dragons AU [1]
Category: Lazer Team (2015)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, it's pretty lowkey i guess? but it can be risky, lazer quest prequel, the dads are gay and having a bad time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 08:59:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7884856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yorkisms/pseuds/yorkisms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isn't it nice to know?<br/>That good will conquer evil?<br/>The truth we all believe'll by and by<br/>Outlive a lie. </p><p>(Not.)</p><p>Or: Near-on seventeen years before the events of Lazer Quest, a young and inexperienced noble looking to run away bumps into a thief who has a weakness for strays.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wait for It

**Author's Note:**

> This one gets multiple chapters because their backstory is different than the others' in that they're very much tangled up together. 
> 
> What a complicated breakup.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life doesn't discriminate   
> Between the sinners and the saints,   
> It takes and it takes and it takes   
> And we keep living anyway  
> We rise and we fall and we break and we make our mistakes.

The opposite of being born to nothing is to be born to everything.

Even then, sometimes it's hard to be truly happy. Far and away from Milford and Crystaloake, across the sea, there's a castle on the seaside. The castle is Silverbeech, home of the duke of the land.

It's in these halls that in the middle of summer the duke's only son, an earl, is born.

The boy is trained from birth in the arts, literature, strategy, and combat.

Any outsider would view this as an upbringing to be envied- waited on hand and foot, honored, and a certainty of immense power in the future. It was not what the duke's son enjoyed.

He enjoyed the topics, was an excellent student in combat, strategy, and most of all, magic. He took to the path of a paladin, as many young nobles have, and at seventeen crossed the sea to serve the goddess he had expressed his love to- the lady Ylene.

Then, for reasons unknown, he vanished.

But he knows perfectly well why he decided to.

-

Two years before the ship sails. He's fifteen, on the path of a paladin. He prays and trains daily, but his training is harsher than ever before.

"Anthony," his mother snaps as he finishes his most recent round of sparring with his tutor, a sir Kelsey. He pulls off his helmet.

"Yes, mother?"

"Do it again."

"We have been working since-"

"I don't care," she interrupts. "Do it. Again."

"I've done this since I was a child, I think I can forgive myself a day-"

"The goddess would not," his mother says pointedly, and he sighs.

"One more time."

He lifts his sword, so tired that his hand strains simply to hold it, and pulls his helmet back on.

"Training ends in half an hour then prepare for dinner," his mother says.

"Yes, mother."

She stays to watch.

The only thing keeping him from failing completely, a trained swordsman will note, is practice. His strikes are weak even for a practice round, his sword hand shakes if he freezes in a thrust.

He barely beats Sir Kelsey, lowering his exhausted sword hand.

"Go prepare for dinner."

She exits, and he removes his helmet with a sigh.

He runs one gloved hand through his sweaty hair, face red from exertion.

The sun tells him he maybe has an hour or so to wash and dress.

He drags himself out of his armor and up to his room.

-

This is routine, for him, getting worked to the bone daily.

Today, during dinner, he can't gather the wherewithal to pretend he's listening to whatever inane political garbage his parents are discussing today.

"Anthony," his father says, and he raises his chin from his hand.

"Yes?"

"Elbows off the table. It's impolite."

He lowers his left hand.

"Yes, father."

He continues to eat. Once he's done, he tries to excuse himself immediately- the only thing he can think much of is his bed- and his mother stops him a moment.

"Wait a moment."

"Yes?"

"In a few years, when you're ready, one of our friends in Eastshore would like to offer you a position. It's very nice and you should be grateful."

"I am."

"Good."

She releases him, and as soon as he's back to his room he's blacked out before his head even hits the pillow.

-

Six months before the ship sails, he's putting his things together. His mother is watching, as usual.

"You're going to be representing our name."

"I know, mother."

"Be perfect."

"Like the goddess," he replies, without a trace of sarcasm, even though resentment flickers in his mind.

"Yes. Like the goddess."

He is silent and continues to organize his things.

"We could have the servants do this."

"I'd rather do it myself."

"Stubborn," his mother sighs. "As always."

She says it with some reproach. He refuses to react.

"I trust my own judgment better than that of others."

"Of course you do."

It's patronizing, he thinks, then immediately silences that thought.

"Well. Be ready for your lessons in an hour."

-

It's two weeks before the ship is due to sail West. His things are for the most part put away, just enough for him. Everything but his armor.

That's all he needs, anyway.

"You need to train."

"Mother-"

"I will not have any back-talk, Anthony. You need to be perfect. In fact..."

She approaches him, then gently tilts his chin upwards to her with one hand.

"You need to be better than perfect."

"Yes, mother," he replies.

-

The day the ship leaves, he knows that he has to be something else. Somehow. Something apart from who he is by birth, who he is by putting in a lifetime of effort from only ten years old to now.

It's not that he thinks the effort isn't worth it. He values the idea of helping people, that's what he wants most.

He resents the standards he's truly never been able to live up to.

He's not sure, as their carriage leaves for the docks, if the goddess would reprimand him for it- his mother always said that family is the law of blood, and that you're not to resent them- but he feels resentful anyways.

He can't let it show, though. He needs to be perfect for an hour more, until the ship is gone and he's gone with it.

He'll have to find something across the sea. Clarity, he supposes, of purpose, something that he can do to help people.

His mother does not hug him goodbye, she merely hands him a letter of introduction that his father wrote and gives him a semi-approving nod.

"Always strive for perfection."

And that's it. He goes below deck as soon as he's on board, enters the cabin his family paid for, and doesn't choose to emerge until a week later they tell him that Eastshore is in sight.


	2. Tornado

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the eye of a hurricane there is quiet  
> For just a moment  
> A yellow sky.

On the other hand, in Eastshore, in fall of the same year that the earl is born, a boy is born. 

He is nobody to anybody at all, in fact, another nameless, faceless member of the masses of the port city. 

He, on the other hand, does not grow up seeing himself that way. 

His name is Herman Mendoza, gods damnit, and he likes to think that one day people will remember it.

He likes to think that. 

For now he's boy, tossed about between the crooked of Eastshore because of one skill he's honed that they desire and are willing to pay him top dollar- or, what to his mind is top dollar- for. 

He's fast. No one in Eastshore has ever seen a thief as fast as Herman. 

So yes, he has a reputation at thirteen as being a thief that anyone can buy if they pay him right. Yes, he has a reputation as a bit of a player, flirting with (and getting nowhere near sleeping with) anyone who strikes his fancy. Yes, he has a reputation...as the best thief in the city. 

So mostly, the rogue chiefs toss him back and forth, arguing whose court got to keep him. 

Naturally, he has his pick of the lot. 

In the beginning he's self taught, that is, he learns from getting beaten away from market stands and the like and forfeits more than one prize before he learns that getting caught is no problem, it's getting away with the goods that matters. 

Those who run the shadier side of Eastshore start to take notice. Stealing food takes a backseat to stealing...anything, for the money to buy food. Herman indulges himself to think that in a way, he's stealing from the rich to give to the poor (himself), because that's who the rogue chiefs target. Rich priests, businessmen, justiciars, Herman has stolen from more wealthy families than he can care to count. 

Somehow, when he's sixteen-going-on-seventeen, he's pulled in by one of his more dangerous clients. 

Her name is Phantom, and she's in charge of most of the docks themselves. This makes her one of the most powerful rogue chiefs in the whole city. 

And Herman knows that she wants him when he's pulled out of bed by none other than her right hand woman, Bullseye Jade, who shoves her (jade) dagger to his throat and tells him silence. 

"She wants to see you."

And so it is at daybreak of the next day that Herman is brought to see Phantom. 

Her face is covered save for her eyes, which are quicksilver, and focus on him. 

"Tornado, I require your services."

"Depends on what you need."

"In two weeks, a boy noble from the east will be arriving in Eastshore," Phantom says.

"I will pay you sixty gold for his sword."

"His sword? Really?" 

"I am being offered more for it. It's a relic, they don't come cheap."

"What's it so special for?"

"I'm not offering you sixty gold to ask questions, Tornado."

"You have a point," Herman says. "Yeah, okay, fine. I'll get you your sword."

This, unsurprisingly, does not go according to plan. 

-

Herman's done things like this a million times before, a sword is no object. He simply plans to follow the new arrival, and then steal the sword from him when his guard is down.

Which sounds easy enough, but then Herman is walking past the target (clearly visible with the armor and all) once the target exits the ship, and Herman's almost tripping over his tail this guy is so cute. 

In fact, he does trip over his tail. He's that distracted.

And he runs right into the guy, who looks so embarrassed and guilty that Herman's first instinct is that he has to apologize, dear gods, he made someone so adorable feel awful.

Fortunately, the target speaks first, and Herman has a minute to get his thief's instincts back in order.

"Sorry-"

"Don't mention it," Herman says, faking a wide, fanged grin. The target doesn't flinch at that like many humans have, surprising. 

In fact, he's more the staring type. Herman offers him a hand. The target takes a moment to notice, then shakes.

"Herman Mendoza."

"Anthony Hagan." 

New plan, Herman thinks. Gain his trust. Steal sword when capable. 

"Think ya cut me," wink, "Cause you're lookin real sharp. Where're ya headed, Tony?"

He has no way of knowing, now, that no one has ever nicknamed this boy in his life. 

He does know that Hagan's face turns reddish and he stammers a moment before telling him something along those lines. 

"N-No one really calls me-"

"Too bad, I will. Where ya headed?"

"T-The, um, the- Justice- Justice Hall."

"Oh?"

"I'm, u-um- supposed to meet some people there-"

"Ah. You gonna work there?"

"A bit."

Herman grabs his hand, ignoring Hagan's small (adorable) squeak of shock, and begins guiding him through the streets towards the Justice hall.

"Sounds kinda boring to me. If you're gonna be a justiciar-"

"Paladin."

"Then wouldn't you have already finished training?"

"Technically, yes, I have. But-"

"But what?" Herman interrupts, glancing back at him. Hagan's eyes widen in shock.

“I know the idiots down at the justice hall, they’re just gonna make you sit at a desk and write reports for the Marchioness of Deepshadow. And they’re not gonna make it that interesting, no matter how many connections you have. Plus, most of ‘em can be paid off with a bit of silver. Doesn’t strike me as your kind of place.”

“You think so?”

“I know so. They don’t spend a lot of time chasing down actual criminals." 

"How do you know-”

Herman winks, and Hagan looks so disappointed with the conclusion he's drawn from that conversation that Herman just knows he needs to lie.

“Oh.”

“Don’t flip out, Tony, I’m not interested in robbing you. Well…I thought about it, but not anymore.”

“I feel very comforted.”

“I only steal from people I don’t like. And people who don’t need it. And maybe if someone got you introduced at the justice hall you don’t need it, but I do like you.”

“Oh.”

The Justice Hall looms overhead already, and for Herman (for the both of them) it feels like it's been too little time.

But Herman knows he has to go.

“Here we are. Be seeing you around, Tony!”

Herman moves past Hagan before Hagan calls after him.

“Wait, Herman-”

“What’s up?”

“If I wanted to run off on this appointment,” Hagan says. “Get away. Do some real good. Would you be willing to help me?”

Herman grins slyly, his tail flicking.

“Well…I could get you out of the city by nightfall.”

“That works,” Hagan says breathlessly. 

“Would you come with me?”

“Maybe,” Herman says, fake-considering, his mind already made up.

“Maybe I could get us horses easy and out of here in a day or two.”

“Maybe?”

“You’re winning me over fast, Tony,” Herman says teasingly. 

“Yeah, I’ll take you away from here. No cost. As long as I get to come with you.”

“Y-You can- definitely do that, y-yeah, please.”

“Great,” Herman says. 

“Let’s do some good, paladin." 

Herman pauses as Hagan tries to move past him, then grabs Hagan's arm.

"But everything comes at a price."


	3. That Would Be Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Look around, look around…  
> Look at where you are  
> Look at where you started  
> The fact that you’re alive is a miracle  
> Just stay alive, that would be enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gay.

"We're going west," Herman says, weaving through the alleyways with practiced ease. Hagan lets out a too-loud sigh of relief.

"I'm not complaining.

"But first...I need to settle a score with this other thief, Phantom."

"Um..."

"Here in Eastshore the districts are run better by rogue chiefs than by the justiciars. I work for whoever pays, and, truthfully, one of them sent me after you."

"M-Me?" Hagan manages, paling. "For what?"

"Nothing personal, Tony, she didn't ask me to kill you. She just wants your sword."

"She wants my what?"

"Your sword," Herman repeats, desperately. "It's the only way I can get you out of here, if she gives me the gold for it."

"I have money, I can just-"

"She's going to chase me to the ends of the earth for that sword," Herman insists. 

"Please."

It's evening, and they're hiding in an alley and have only known each other for a day, but Hagan is this close to handing the sword over and Herman already knows it. 

"Is it too big a price to pay to get out of here?"

It's a shot in the dark, but Hagan unsheathes the sword and hands it to Herman.

"Its name is Ura-gano," Hagan says quietly. "It belonged to my father's father. I give it to you now to escape them. Take it."

Herman puts one hand on top of Hagan's where it wraps around the hilt. 

"I swear," Herman says, shakily, "By the honor I still hold. By the gods, by- by Ylene the lady fair, if she'll have someone like me do it, that I will get you out of this city and- away, away from whatever scares you about the East."

Hagan chokes slightly, on the verge of full tears. 

"Then take my sword and keep your word." 

Hagan pushes the sword towards Herman, who accepts it. 

"Tony, I won't let you down."

-

"How did you get it?" Phantom asks, running one gloved hand along the blade. Herman shrugs.

"I won his trust."

"Confidence isn't normally your game, Tornado."

"What can I say, I'm charming. And a sword is a bigger ask than pocket change or small items. It's half my height."

"You make a good point," Phantom purrs, before handing it off to one of her subordinates who Herman knows as Mad Dog Maeve.

"Get him his gold."

Herman is dumped in the street with a bag of gold, and instead of running to the nearest pub as he would any other time, he makes a beeline straight to where he told Hagan to wait for him.

-

"We have to go," are Herman's first words. He grabs Hagan's wrist and they run towards the city walls. 

"We have to-?"

"It won't take long for them to realize that I've up and gone. They dont have any power outside of Eastshore, but the sooner we get far enough away from them, the better."

"And you got the gold?"

"Yes."

"When we get to a new town," Hagan says, "You're buying me a new sword."

"Fair enough."

Herman sneaks them past the guards, they borrow a lost horse, and ride all night to the next town. They tie the horse up in a small forest clearing, Herman starts a fire, and they both lie down on their backs, panting and looking up at the dawn sky. 

"You think we're far enough?"

"We gotta keep running west," Herman says. 

"At the very least."

-

A year passes, and memories are made and older ones fade. 

Almost a year later, also at night, they're both sitting in front of a fire in the north lands. They're cold, and dressed warm but still close to the fire- and close to each other- to retain heat. 

"Tony," Herman says. "You never told me. Why did you run away?"

Hagan's smile fades slightly.

"My family."

"What about 'em?"

"They weren't good people," Hagan admits, holding his hands over the fire. "That's it. They were obsessed with...being perfect. Obsessed with me being perfect. And the less perfect I was, the more unhappy they were with me."

Herman looks shocked at first, then mad. 

"What did they do."

"What?"

"Did they beat you for no reason? There are tales of noble families in disrepair who-"

"Nothing like that," Hagan interrupts.

"It's that...I could do nothing but work, work, work. Work all day, all the time. I went to bed sore and woke up in the morning barely rested. I was rotting from the inside out and I knew I had to do something, I just...had no idea what."

"Tony," Herman says quietly. 

"I'mma tell you right now, I'd rather lose my thieving hands than let you go back there-"

"I don't plan on it," Hagan insists. 

"The past few months with you have been...amazing. Feel amazing. I want...I...funny," he admits, dropping his shoulders a bit. 

"I didn't think about what I want a lot."

"What do you want," Herman asks, "Anything, I'll do what I can."

"I want to stay with you," Hagan says. "I don't want to think about being perfect again."

"You are perfect to me," Herman mumbles, before pulling Hagan into a hug. 

Hagan chokes slightly. 

"Herman..."

"Shut up, man. Lemme have a moment."


End file.
